


A Semblance of Control

by Em_Jacques



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Come Eating, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub, Established Master/Slave situatuion, F/M, Force Bondage/Manipulation, Light BDSM, Light Comfort, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Past DubCon, Sexual Slavery, Shameless Smut, mentions of physical abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-19
Updated: 2016-01-19
Packaged: 2018-05-15 00:54:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,247
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5765485
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Em_Jacques/pseuds/Em_Jacques
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kylo Ren barges into his chambers in the middle of the day filled with rage, and thoroughly uses you as you're intended to relieve his frustration.  He'll drive you to the same feelings of helplessness however, before he wrecks you; you are his in all ways, and sometimes after the politics of the First Order he just needs reassurance that his power is truly absolute.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Semblance of Control

**Author's Note:**

> A little dark, forceful, and filthy; I got sick of reading all the hyper-emo virgin Kylo's out there, so I decided to write him with more highlight to the destructive issues he might take out on someone hot for the Dark Side and hot for making him feel powerful. Kylo Ren doesn't cry over what he wants, he takes what he wants, and I like a slightly pervy and sadistic Ren. 
> 
> Sorry if there are any mistakes, I don't have a beta. Please comment if you feel a tag is missing, etc.

He storms through the door in a fury, startling you from your perch leisurely reading on a sofa. Red reverberating thuds and hisses scatter throughout the mirrors and shelves just inside the door, and you hear him shouting angrily behind his mask. After a brief period, once everything inside the doorway is in scorched pieces on the floor, he pauses with his back to the room. He hunches his shoulders with newly released rage, breathing heavily for a few seconds to collect himself. Slowly, the bowed, hooded head looks up. You call to him tentatively, quiet, but sure to keep fear or too much sympathy from crawling into your voice.

“Kylo?”

He spins around to face inside the room, obviously surprised to see you sitting there. He must have been quite upset, you think, to not feel you with the Force once he entered. With deliberate strides he moves towards you before stopping to loom over the sofa. You look questioning up at the inscrutable mask, eyebrows furrowed, feeling a little scared. Even though you generally feel safe in his presence his rages can become so violent; you’re not quite sure if he’s in his right mind when he slips away like that.

Moving quickly, he grips your shoulder roughly and pushes you back against the cushions, pressing one padded-leather clad knee between your thighs as you sprawl slightly. Your short lounging dress slips up low around your hips, and he strokes a gloved hand around the bend of your leg, pushing a thumb under the hem to slide it up farther. You moan at the soft scrape of the leather against your skin.

“Don’t speak unless I ask you to,” he orders in a low voice, “and do not resist me.” Your stomach jumps with his short words, and a soft thrill moves through you. That smooth, darkly distorted timbre gets you every time and you thoroughly believe he knows it. You think he likes it too, if you’re being honest, and you are certain he loves when you act in awe of him.  
Thighs spreading slightly to allow him to press more easily against you, you nod quickly and lower your gaze in submission. He pushes the wide shoulders of your dress down to ride on your upper arms before lifting you slightly to scoot you back, then brings his other leg up to rest on the outside of your spread knee, straddling one.

“Good little slave.” His words are a whisper and he grips your chin to lift your face up to him. A thick wave seems to radiate from him, pushing thickly into you, and your arms are snapped up tightly together behind your head. Those long, probing hands of his release your body to quickly remove his belt and toss it to the floor, cape and vest following shortly after. 

“What do you do all day in here?” He asks you, almost taunting, as he moves. “Do you sit here waiting, desperate for me to return and use you?” Once his more cumbersome clothing is out of the way, he pauses, softly running a gloved finger along the outside of your most definitely wet panties. “You surely feel desperate. Or is it fear? Do you feel dread, rather than desperation?” He twists his finger to push past the fabric and slip inside you, making you gasp. He sends another surge of Force from your shoulders to your knees, and a hot roll of arousal follows.

“Desperate!” You moan quickly, pressing yourself into his hand. “I belong to you, I’m yours to enjoy when you please, Kylo.”

The hand not stroking you swiftly pulls back, and a sharp backhand to the cheek makes you see stars. He pauses for the briefest of moments, giving you the one chance you’ll get to say the word and back out, but you’ve taken far worse than this from him before. He’s never left you unsatisfied in the end.  
Your opportunity is over, and he harshly thrusts another finger into you.

“Not today!” He growls dangerously, pulling his hand away and turning you over smoothly with invisible power. "Address me properly." Your dress is tugged up around your waist and your panties tugged down to stretch across the backs of your thighs. The distorted moan he gives behind you, his gaze raking over you exposed and flushed with wetness, makes you ache for him. The sound of zippers and clasps being undone over you causes you to release a lust filled moan of your own and you arch your hips up to beg for him. He scrapes one palm firmly up your spine and you bend with it, loving the heavy press of his power over you, dark and demanding behind your prone body. The back of your undone hair gets twisted firmly in his grip.

“You know what I need, why I came to you right now.” Small and edged with feeling, you sense the pleading frustration in his tone. It was probably Hux, you think, prodding and cruel with his slimy words, who got him so worked up today. You wish he would kill the man. Seeing the aftermath of Hux’s disloyalty and the havoc it wreaked on him made your heart grip with sadness. Though it may have literally been how you ended up in your dark lord’s charge, he didn’t often play the slave/master scenario with you, and he had left his helmet on; Hux must have been especially cruel today. 

“Answer me! Or did I order a mute whore?” He barks loudly and your throat clenches shut with suffocating Force. Your words rush fast and sweet as soon as he releases the grip.

“Please be rough with me, Master Ren,” you beg with a breathless voice, “make my body bend to your will and take your pleasure from me!” The warm, wide press of his blunt member strokes against your soaked, plump folds and you gasp. He parts you, rubbing along your entrance and slowly stroking his shaft with your fluid.

“Say it again.” He says flatly. Your groin twists with pressure and you wish he would fill you, thick and hot as he splits you apart.

“Master Ren..." a whimper escapes your pursed lips, "Master Ren, please fuck me!” You lift your hips to catch the head of his cock and try to press back against it. “I ache for you so much, from when you leave in the morning until you return. Take my wet pussy hard and fast until I forget how to walk, show me your power again, Master.” The filth of your words just turns you on more when you hear his lustful growl over you. Wet leather digits slide past your lips and you taste yourself on them when he presses down to flatten your tongue and stroke roughly. He pulls high-pitched gasps from your throat and drool is smearing on your chin, and when the length of his dick slides stiffly along your folds you whimper like the needy slut you’re being. You love doing this for him, making him feel like a god, like he can have anything in the galaxy when so many in the Order slyly tear him down.  
Tears being to pool in your eyes when he’s pushed far enough back to make you gag; only then does he finally pull his fingers from your mouth.

“Putrid words from a perfect mouth,” he muses, and you feel his fist move faster along his cock. You whine; is he really just going to jerk it on you and leave you wanting? The tears spill over and you cry for him. Your thighs are slick and hot, and you want nothing more than his weight between them.

“Why won’t you use your sla-!” The question stops in your throat when your face is gripped still with a low crush of power. Your mouth open and dripping, he pulls you off the sofa with Force and stands to hold you, knees slightly off the ground, keeping your face level with his groin. Unable to tear your eyes away from his mask, you gaze at him with the most accepting look you can muster when the engorged flesh fills your mouth. You huff harshly though your nose while he strokes fast along his shaft, rubbing his head along your tongue while you suck. 

“Don’t swallow.” He orders, and it’s all the notice you get before hot, sticky ropes are filling your mouth. He groans while he orgasms over you, and the sound he makes through his helmet nearly causes you to come on the spot. Those few years ago when he first acquired you, before he chose to take his helmet off for the first time when he fucked you, you would have.  
His taste covers your tongue and begins to slip over your lips, and he relaxes his grip on you and himself, resting you on your knees on the thin grey carpet. You close your mouth and press your tongue to your teeth before opening for him to show him you were listening, but you still twitch with desire and need. You slide your hands to rub them between your pressed-together thighs.

 

He’s tucked himself away promptly and you groan in frustration, unable to speak; now there’s no chance of him finishing you. A small chuckle cracks through his mask and he scoops you up in his arms, carrying you through the large doorway leading to his bedroom to position you on his bed. 

“This is how you like to be, correct?” He asks facetiously. “I’ve watched you like this when you fantasize about what I’ll do with you when I return, when you think I don’t have eyes on you…” you are propped up slightly on your back from your waist to your shoulders on the pillows, but one wrist is bound with his energy to the headboard. He moves your fingers to slide along your labia, wet with both your fluids. “…when you think I can’t sense what’s inside you.” Two of your free fingers are dragged hard over your clit and you gasp. His cum sits heavy in your mouth and you writhe against his control, wishing you could move your fingers yourself.

“I have items to attend still. You’re going to stay here like this, thinking about my touch, fantasizing about your master’s benevolent cock. When I return I want you dirty and aching for me, my perfect little slave. I’ll be listening, and I’ll know if you come without my permission.” He warns.  
He turns from the room to gather the remainder of his clothes, and you hear the main door slam loudly when he leaves the chambers.

 

Your body courses with the need to release, and you rub your thighs together with want while you continue to toy with your slicked regions. It might be quite a while before he returns, you know; but if he makes true on his threat and is keeping tabs on you, you promise you’ll make this as hard for him as it is for you.

The crisp, colorful images flash intensely as you close your eyes and begin to think back. The first time you saw him, thrown to the dusty ground at his feet while he stood silently and uncaring over you; the hopelessness of that first encounter and the echo of Hux’s words as you were referred to as a ‘present’ rang hollow and dreadful in your chest. Then, you remember when he pawed at you that first night in his chambers. Although you were intelligent and had no delusions about your new duties, you were terrified. His altered voice rang deep and smooth in your memory as he explained your position while he stripped you and forced you to kneel in the center of his living room, and you knew your life was truly in his hands. Fear, mixed with the submissive arousal of an entirely new personal hierarchy, dominated you with every lilt of his deep, distorted commands. 

After a while of thoroughly toying with the memories of his masked voice, you think of the first time you saw his face. It’s a complex thought the nuances of which are best left for another day of torturing him, but right now you think of the harsh silhouette of his cheek and nose in the candlelight when he crushed you onto the mattress. He was so shockingly handsome with the high contrast of pale skin framed in luscious dark hair, his teeth grit tightly under plush, high cheekbones with possessive rage over you. You see his eyes flashing dark and you stroke hard at your bead when you feel the memory of his bite at your shoulder, hard enough it drew blood and made you scream his name. His hair fell soft and smelling faintly of sweat against your cheek when he leant down over you to whisper vulgar promises that made you blush and whimper. He kissed your face and body over and over that night, until your lips were swollen from his roughness and your flesh bruised with the outline of his fingertips. No matter how hard you tried to tear your eyes away or blink through the tears, his stare was impossible to escape. It was as if the Dark Side manifested in his gaze, gripping your heart tight with an infallible ache for him and making your thighs part willingly for his ravishing. 

 

It feels like hours go by. Your fingers are numbed and coated with your juices as they slip mindlessly in and out of you. Thoughts of his gloved fingers stroking you harder and rougher than you dare to do yourself cross your mind and you pause, breathing heavily to prevent yourself from climaxing. The thin blankets covering his bed twist beneath you and pull up from the corners to wind up around your ankles, but all it does is remind you of the day when he granted you a safe word.

Several months had passed since your capture and the day’s events on base had thrown him into a rage, the first time you saw one of his detached violent displays. He started with actions you were by this point well familiar with and even enjoyed; choking you with the Force, growling demeaning things to you, entering you without preparation so the sting of his girth penetrating you made you cry. But you had been slow to respond to his demands, so in his fury he bound you on your knees in front of him before removing his helmet and striking you across the face with it, sending you reeling sideways and crushing your cheekbone. Partway through the bloody, brutal fucking that followed you passed out from pain; you still don’t know for how long.  
When you woke it was to the smothering press of his frantic embrace as he sat on the floor with you in his lap, smoothing your hair back and desperately ordering you to wake up like a parent pleading a dead child back to life. His voice shook and his eyes were wet with tears; he thought he had truly killed you. When you cracked your lids to look up at him, his face full of shame and remorse, he told you his real name.  
He rocked you back and forth in his arms, urging you to breathe steadily and if he pushed you to something you couldn’t handle, to say his name. The medics set the bones properly and once you were healed you begged him to bind you again, goading him into action with disobedience and sass until he finally got fed up and slapped you hard. The air hung thick and silent when he did, and he froze with the anticipation of the word crossing your lips. When your only reaction was a sly grin, he pounced, binding you and beating your ass and thighs until you were bruised purple and dripping for him. You were his to own, and sometimes you had to remind him of that. 

Finally feeling settled after reflecting on the brief, caring moment, you think of how strong a presence he commands. You want him to be as desperate for you as he makes you be for him, so you cater your thoughts to his ego while you imagine the hot press of him filling you.  
Stormtroopers part for him when he passes, and none of the Generals save Hux dare to contest him for fear of his wrath. You imagine him running the ginger bastard through with his saber; the deafening buzz of unstable force burning a big hole right through his chest, Kylo’s imposing figure tall and dark behind him when he gurgles blood up onto his uniform. He’ll love that thought as much as you do, you’re certain. He’s probably starting an argument with the General right now, as you stroke yourself to the fantasy of blood spilling over his hands.  
You continue in this way, praising him and fantasizing over his prowess while you taste his drying semen on your lips. The room is dark and time passes, its length unknown to you.

 

When he finally returns you’re too delirious and lost in your thoughts to notice until you hear the hiss of mechanics in his helmet as he removes it. He tosses it away and it hits a dresser with a dull thud. He strips quickly for the second time that day, robes and armor scattering thoughtlessly onto the floor.

“You tease me too beautifully, with your whorish desires and unbreakable loyalty.” He pants hard from controlling himself all this time and falls to the bed over you clad only in his padded armor pants, erection prominent and voice cracking when he palms your body roughly. “Do you really believe such beautiful things about me? Do you truly long so badly for your god?”

Tears begin to fall freely down your cheeks when you nod, your chest twisting with adoration at the bleary outline of his disheveled hair and burning, hungry eyes; at this point you are so high with lust there is nothing you’d deny him. He slides your panties off one foot, kneeling between your thighs and meeting no resistance as he spreads them with a hand on each. Sweat coats your nearly naked form and causes your dress to stick to your back and breasts; you’re so overcome with denied satisfaction you can’t find the strength to pretend to fight back. You feel like you will die of he isn’t inside you this very second. Your heart beats wildly and your mind is so far gone in your carnal thoughts you barely notice him touching you.

“My little slut begs so perfectly when I’m gone…why does she fall silent now that she has me here?” The clear, sad timbre of his words pangs your heart sharply with what you can only describe as love.

“Kylo,” you moan weakly through your tears, blindly lifting your body to meet his touch wherever you manage to feel him, “I can’t…I need you…”

A quiet noise, sounding almost like a sob, catches in his throat and he pushes his way harshly inside you. You scream in blissful satisfaction as he fills you suddenly, only to gasp and cry out when he slams into you a second time. 

“Open yourself to me,” he orders through licking the tears from your cheeks, “every part of you is mine.”

Arms stretched high above your head to grip the headboard where one wrist remains bound, you relax your entire form against him, letting him move you and spread you like a doll. The swollen thickness of his erection parts you painfully even as wet as you are, every thrust filling you so deeply you feel as though he takes over your whole body.  
He claims you fast and rough, hands gripping your waist and breasts harshly while he pants over you. After so much anticipation you climax without warning or buildup, letting your hips fall limp and open for him to manhandle while he fucks you through your orgasm. Your words fall incoherent and empty as you babble quietly in your white haze.

“More…please Kylo, more…”

He closes his teeth on your shoulder, sucking and biting alternatively to leave you with a darkly bruised mark. 

“Master!” you cry out, and he growls with satisfaction, lifting your hips to slam you down onto his member. The harsh treatment of your oversensitive core makes you come a second time before fully recovering from the first and he pauses, buried inside you, while you spasm around him.

“Oh god…” He moans, pressing both hands at your lower back to keep himself fully seated inside you. “You take me like you were made for me…shaped by my cock alone and meant only to be wrapped around me, to be filled by me.”

“Yes!” You roll your hips and he begins to slam you onto him with powerful strokes, becoming more frantic as he nears his own completion. “Take me,” you beg breathlessly, and he wraps strong fingers around your neck, stroking his thumb along the curve of your throat. He could crush it so easily, you think; you love being turned out completely, flushed and begging, at his mercy.

Your submissive thoughts are all it takes, and he comes hard inside you. His arms fold tight and hot wherever they can grab you, bending your prone form beneath him and the force of his hips pressing tight at your groin lifting your back from the bed. He wrenches your head back to plant wet, open kisses to your lips while he fills you, and you drink up the groans of your name from his mouth while you both crest and come down from your fervor.

Eventually the harsh tug of his hands and press of his hard body begins to make you ache with a previously unnoticed soreness. The pressure at your wrist disappears and you feel him relax over you, so you reach to smooth his thick hair back from his forehead. You carefully push each sweat soaked tendril back into place, and he slips from you gently as you turn on your side in hopes of containing some of the inevitable mess.  
He sits up against the headboard, eyes closed, and you move to lick his softening member free of the various residual stickiness. Small laps of affection and soft sucks along the hyper-sensitive flesh make him melt in appreciation; you know he loves it when you worship him. He pets your head gently until you are done, then traces his thumb along the cum-dried, tear streaked mess of your face when you rest your cheek on the hard planes of his abdomen.

“You were gifted to me as what I’m sure was meant to be punishment for both of us, but more and more I find myself thanking the Dark Side I have you.” He says calmly. “You are stronger than I could ask of any slave or paid whore.”

Your body lies limp and tired alongside him, humming with satisfaction and exhaustion. 

“What happened today, Ren?” You ask quietly. Sometimes he just needed the reassurance that he could control something, or someone, in his life when stresses on Star Killer Base ran high. It wasn’t easy for him to hold total control yet with his Knights spread throughout the galaxy, but being the targeted relief of such frustrations over the years had led you to read him well.  
A rare smile crosses his dark features, and you’re glad you looked up in time to see it. He must have felt your glee because he quickly reprimands you.

“Don’t act so dismal, I can smile.” He quips with a frown. A sigh immediately follows. “Nothing special in particular. Hux played me a fool in front of the Supreme Leader, as he’ll do. It was my own pride that lead to it, but he doesn’t need to act so damned excited at every opportunity to undermine me.”

Your heart sinks a little, even though it was an easy guess. The hatred in your soul for Hux burns just as deeply as your devotion to Ren. Wrapping a sheet around your bottom half, you sidle yourself to sit on the bed between his bare legs and pepper kisses across his torso.

“The Supreme Leader can see into your heart, Kylo, into your connection, and he knows what you feel.” He stares into the corner of the room, and you hope you’re being reassuring. “Hux may embarrass you, but the Leader sees your potential. He will teach you everything you need and he won’t let you fail.”  
Kylo’s dark eyes rise to meet yours, and you feel him searching for doubt in you. Your smile remains content and stoic because you know there is none to find. “The time isn’t far off. Soon your training will be complete and whatever you desire will fall into your lap, just like me.” You place your palms on his chest and lift yourself to reach his mouth, kissing him deeply and ending it with a light nip at his bottom lip. A seductive tone taints your next sentence, and you lower your eyelids to tease him. 

“Next time, will you tell me all about how you’re going to slash Hux to pieces with your light saber while you fuck me?”


End file.
